


A Murder of Ravens

by Anonymous



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, One-Sided John Childermass/John Uskglass | The Raven King, Whump, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21660694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Childermass finds himself between a rock and a strange place.
Relationships: Stephen Black/John Childermass
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Yuletide 2019, anonymous





	A Murder of Ravens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notkingyet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notkingyet/gifts).



Childermass felt sure that if only he put his mind to it, he would remember how he had come to be where he was. Unfortunately, where he was seemed a more pressing matter than how he had come there, and how he might stop being where he was seemed more pressing still.

Under normal circumstances, the answer would have been simple: wishing to leave, Childermass would have left. He had done so many times before, having found that staying against one's own wishes rarely brought one happiness.

Alas, that his present circumstances were not so normal that they would allow this logical solution.

Heavy rocks had already been placed upon Childermass's legs. He suspected they, that was to say: his legs, might well have been broken, yet as he experienced not the least pain or discomfort, this did not seem a matter requiring his immediate attention, save for how it related to his being unable to leave.

Shortly, Childermass knew (though quite how this knowledge had gotten to him, he seemed to have forgotten along with the circumstances of his arrival) there would be more rocks placed upon his arms, his chest and then, at the very last, upon his head, and then he would be dead.

Childermass felt no particular desire to be dead. It seemed altogether a rather boring thing to be.

He wished he might conceive of some way to prevent any more rocks from being placed. He still had use of his arms, yet his strength did not suffice to free himself. He had use of his mouth, his ears, his nose and his eyes, all of which had often served him well.

"Listen, you," addressed Childermass whomever might be within earshot. That there would be some-one seemed logical. Rocks were not in the habit of hurling themselves at innocent travellers for no reason whatsoever, after all. "Can't you at least tell me what you think I have done to deserve this?"

By way of a reply, the rock placed upon his right arm left something to be desired.

Still, Childermass supposed it provided some clarity as to his assailant's determination to do him harm.

"I have some friends who might take it quite poorly if you were to kill me," said he, reasoning that the more important a person one was, the less likely one was to perform one's own dirty work. A servant or soldier or mercenary might be threatened if they could not be bribed or talked around.

This statement resulted in a rock being placed upon his left arm.

Childermass reflected that if only he had known how he had come to be here, he would undoubtedly be regretting his folly and lamenting his carelessness. As he did not know this, however, he saw no reason to blame himself for any-thing.

He briefly considered begging for his life, but decided it would do little good. An assailant who spoke to you might delight in gloating and perhaps be persuaded that to leave you alive would be a better punishment than death; whomever was throwing rocks at Childermass clearly had no interest in carrying on any sort of conversation.

"Well, damn you, then," said Childermass, but softly. If his curse worked, he would be satisfied; if it did not, he would as soon his assailant did not know of it. "May you - " he went on, intending to add more detail, but before he could do so, there came a great sound and he looked up to see a rock descending upon his head, and it occurred to him that this was quite silly, as a rock moving through the air hardly made so much sound as that, and then the rock touched his head and he knew nothing more.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying in a bed. His arms and legs and chest had been bandaged. The room smelled of oranges, which was explained by a small bowl of the fruits in question standing on a nearby table.

The bed stood in a small room, with a door to the right of him (he noted there was no lock upon it) and a window to the left of him. A raven sat on the windowsill. It appeared to be regarding him with curiosity, though Childermass was inclined to ascribe this to his imagination.

He considered calling out, but just as he did so, the door opened and a person whom Childermass had never seen before entered the room. The person bore a tray with food and drink, and Childermass at once realized that he felt ravenous.

"Excuse me, but might you tell me where I am?" asked Childermass, hoping to satisfy his curiosity and hunger at the same time, but the person only cocked his head and looked at him, and Childermass realized they had a bird's beak instead of a mouth.

As they put the tray by the bed, he told them, "Thank you," though he wondered if they understood him. It occurred to him that eating a stranger's food and drinking a stranger's wine was not always wise, when one found oneself in Faerie, but then, denying oneself food and drink when injured was not wise either, so once the beaked person had left, he ate and drank to his heart's content, throwing some small pieces of bread to the raven, who disdained his offering.

He intended to stay awake and attempt to speak again to whomever would come to collect the empty tray, but instead, he felt himself drifting off to sleep again, and he reasoned that, after all, it might very well be that who had brought the tray would also return for it, in which case it would do him no good whatsoever to wait for them.

"It grieves me excessively that you have come to such harm," said the man once known as Stephen Black. Childermass knew this as surely as he knew that he had come to call this man 'King', as though there were only one. Yet as soon as he tried to remember how this had come to be, he felt his thoughts turn as slippery as eels. "The fault is mine."

"Really?" asked Childermass. "It is your fault that there are wicked men in this world, King? It is your fault that I went someplace I had best left alone?"

"You went on my behalf. Is that not so?" said Childermass's King. He sounded quite unhappy with himself.

"Perhaps I did," said Childermass, who did not know. "Perhaps I went for myself. Either way, my actions were my own, and I will take responsibility for them, if you please. Or even if you do not."

As his king sighed, it occurred to Childermass that he was dreaming. He wondered if that meant he would be repeating this conversation again when he was awake, or if he was truly speaking with his king, and then he wondered why he should think such a thing was even possible, to speak with another person in one's dream and have them remember it upon waking.

"If you do not return within a fortnight, I will come for you," said Childermass's King. "Through ice or fire, through rain or snow or hail, however long or twisted the road, I will come for you. Tell him, if he will not let you go."

Childermass had not the least idea who 'he' was, but he saw no reason to distress the other man by mentioning this and besides, if Childermass wished to go, he would leave. No-one had ever been able to make him stay anywhere he did not wish to be, except for he himself, and that had been a considerable time ago. "I will, though I am sure it will not come to that."

"Let us hope so," said the man. Childermass thought his face looked familiar, but he could not quite think of his name, or where they might have met before, so he only nodded.

Childermass saw the beaked servant three more times. Each time, they brought a tray and he would thank them and resolve to stay awake to see them collect it again, and then he would find himself falling asleep instead. It was rather vexing, though Childermass comforted himself with the knowledge that he had only been here two days at most.

On the fourth day, someone came to see him.

"John Childermass. Do you know me?" he said, sitting in a chair by the bed. Childermass had never before noticed his room also had a chair in it. He would have liked to get up and sit in it for a while, he thought, because it got rather boring after a while to only lie in bed all day.

"I am afraid you have the advantage of me, sir." Childermass decided that he would sit in the chair tomorrow, or perhaps the day after that. Even if he felt better every day, he did not yet feel very strong.

"True enough." Childermass's visitor smiled. "Shall I tell you my name, then?"

"If you wish," replied Childermass. He resolved to leave as soon as possible, though where he would go, he did not know. There did not exist any place he called 'home', nor any man whom he particularly wished to serve.

"That is most agreeable of you," said Childermass's visitor.

"I flatter myself to think I am an agreeable sort of person," replied Childermass.

His visitor rose. "We must talk again later. For now, there are certain matters I must see to."

After nearly a week, Childermass was beginning to wish any-one would come to see him. He still knew nothing of where he was, or how he had come to be injured. He sometimes found himself fretting over these gaps in his memory, wondering what he might forget next.

He thought he dreamt, and that his dreams were disturbing, yet when he woke, he was never able to recall what they had been about, only that they had frightened him and left him with the strong sense that he had to go somewhere and do something vitally important.

"It is no insignificant matter, surely, to save a man's life," someone said. "Such an act incurs a debt."

Some-one laughed. It was a rather bitter sort of laugh, Childermass thought. He was almost sure that he had heard it before, that if only he might see the person's face, he would know them, and furthermore, that once he recognized them, many more good things would happen.

There was a rock on his face, though, and Childermass knew with great certainty that if he opened his eyes, it would cause the rock to come down and crush his skull.

"If he did not ask you to save him, I do not see how you may claim anything of the sort," said some-one.

"You hold him in some regard, do you not?" replied someone. "Perhaps you wish to accept the debt in his place. I might be amenable to such a thing. After all, I am no stranger to human affection."

"I beg to differ," said some-one.

"Many men have begged me for many things - and a few women as well, of course," replied someone. "I rarely heed their pleas. I must confess I find them all rather tedious."

"Then, will you give me what I want, sir? For if you do not, you must know there will be war between us," said some-one. "I would regret that excessively."

"I do not doubt that you would, for it would be a very foolish thing to do," replied someone. "On the other hand, I might find it somewhat amusing. So you see, that is no argument at all."

"You sound very certain of yourself, sir," said some-one.

"I have cause, do you not think? You, who has tasted of my power and known the strength of my allies - do you truly think that if you were to declare a war upon me, it would result in aught but inglorious and utter defeat?"

Childermass felt the rock stir, as if contemplating to leave Childermass along and hurl itself at some-one else instead. He did not know if either of the persons speaking even knew he was there, let alone if they would help him, but he thought it might be worth making the attempt to draw their attention.

He opened his mouth, and then his eyes, forgetting that he had been a-feared to do so before.

There was a person sitting in a chair by his bed, and Childermass knew him.

"On my part, may I say that I am quite happy that you have saved my life, sir?" he said. "As such, it goes without saying that any debt there is should solely be mine."

The Raven King regarded him. The raven on the windowsill regarded him. Childermass thought that he ought to have tried to befriend it, perhaps by offering it some of his food, and then he recalled that he had, and that all the while as he had travelled from Lost-hope to elsewhere, he had noticed a raven accompanying him, keeping watch.

"I can even overlook a bit of spying," said Childermass. "Given the happy result. Though if there was anything you wanted to know, I would have been happy to tell you."

"What I wanted to know was you, John Childermass, and now, I believe that I do," said the Raven King.

"Does that mean that you will let me leave, sir?" asked Childermass, a bit warily. What he would be able to do about it if the answer was 'no', he did not know. He supposed that he would have to make the best of it and hope that one day, he might escape even-so, but the prospect did not fill him with hope.

"If that is what you want," said the Raven King. "You might stay, instead, and be my servant. My companion, to stand by my side as I go to take back what is mine. Would you not like that better?"

"No, sir, I would not. No offense intended," said Childermass. "I know my limits."

"As you wish. Then, be you gone from this house," said the Raven King, and kissed first Childermass's right hand, and then his left, and Childermass felt the King's human lips harden as his mouth turned into a raven's beak, which pecked first at Childermass's left cheek and then his right.

Childermass lifted his hands to his face, to touch his cheeks. He was unsurprised when his fingers came away bloody, though he told himself it could have been much worse - and had been, in fact, when some of Lost-hope's former master's friends had caught him quite unawares.

"Take nothing but with what you came," said the Raven King, and then he was gone, a swarm of ravens chasing Childermass from his bed and out of the door.

"All things considered, you came out of your little adventure rather well," said the man whose name had once been Stephen Black.

"Oh, quite," said Childermass. He had found himself where he had been ambushed and very nearly killed, his horse where he had left it, and from there, he had ridden straight back to Hope-lost, expecting every moment to wake up and find out he had only been dreaming.

"He might very easily have decided to keep you," said Stephen.

"He might not have found that as easy as all that, sir," replied Childermass.

"You think you could have escaped the Raven King himself?" asked Stephen. "I would not doubt your abilities for all the world, my dear Childermass, but that does seem a bit arrogant."

"Yes. I suppose it does, sir." Childermass smiled, though his legs and arms and head seemed to insist on reminding him of the damage they had sustained so recently. "About as arrogant as claiming you would come and get me back if he tried, would you say, sir?"

Stephen smiled back at him. "Perhaps. Let us be glad it did not come to that."

"Oh, I am, sir. Trust me," said Childermass, touching the wounds on his cheek. He felt rather sure that they would leave scars.

"I would ask you to be more careful in the future, but I cannot imagine it would do any good." Stephen reached out, his fingers brushing against Childermass's fingers and then his cheek.

"Being careful is often a wise course of action, sir," said Childermass.

"I have always found it so," agreed Stephen.

If ever there was a moment when he had felt less inclined to kiss some-one, Childermass though he did not know it: his body felt sore and bruised all over from what it had been subjected to, and yet he also felt that as perfect a moment as this one would not come again soon and that he should seize it.

Stephen sighed a little as Childermass kissed him, but his lips remained human, and soft, and for a handful of heartbeats, Childermass imagined he himself might turn into a raven, to hurt where he merely wished to touch, but he, too, remained as human as he had always been, and Stephen started kissing him back with increasing enthusiasm, he put the thought from his mind.


End file.
